


An Angel's Wish

by noiproksa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Self-Made Family, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noiproksa/pseuds/noiproksa
Summary: Cas has a special wish for Christmas: All he wants for Christmas is a home with the Winchesters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt “A letter to Santa”

“Dean, I mean it. I don’t want girl’s shampoo again,” Sam said, following Dean close behind into the library where Cas was sitting and reading up on monsters that liked to kill on the twelve days of Christmas.

Dean had thought that Sammy would leave him alone if he’d go and find Cas, but no such luck. “Well, why don’t you write a letter to Santa then,” he suggested.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas look up from his book and follow their discussion curiously.

Sam rolled his eyes and held out a piece of paper for him. “Here. Even you can’t mess it up if you get to choose from a list of acceptable Christmas presents.”

“Sure, I’ll send it to Santa, see what he can do,” Dean said with a bright grin. He folded Sam’s wish list carelessly and put it into his jeans pocket. Then he walked over to Cas, clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Hey, Cas. Got anything interesting?”

He sat down on the chair opposite of the angel and put his feet up on the table, raising his eyes at him.

Cas ignored his question and asked, “Who is this Santa? I have never heard of him.”

“Seriously?” Dean said, raising his eyebrows even higher. Then he shot a look at Sammy and stated, “Wow, we have not been celebrating Christmas right these last few years.” Turning back to Cas, Dean explained, “Here’s the deal: He’s the most important thing about Christmas.”

“That’s not true,” Sam interjected as he took a seat next to Cas, but Dean ignored him, ready to educate their angel about the importance of Santa.

“Santa Claus. He’s awesome! He’s the guy that brings gifts to everyone during the night before Christmas.”

Sam furrowed his brows at that explanation, but he kept quiet.

“Everyone?” Cas repeated in awe. “Is he a magical being?”

“He sure is,” Dean said.

The furrow on Sam’s forehead grew deeper and this time he didn’t keep his mouth shut. “Dean…” he began, but Dean was having none of it. There were enough sucky magical elements in their lives, such as ghosts haunting people or witches that didn’t miss any opportunity to curse them. If he could make Cas believe in good gift-giving magic to distract from monsters that were on a killing spree around the festive season—then so be it.

“So, what did you dig up?” Dean hurried to ask, effectively cutting Sammy off. He took his feet off the table so that he could lean over and get a closer look at the book Cas had been studying. Time to concentrate on their hunt, anyway.

***

A couple days later, Dean was lying on his bed, nibbling on a Christmas cookie and incidentally just thinking about what he could get for a friggin’ _Angel of the Lord_ , when said angel came into his room and said without preamble, “I wrote a letter to Santa as you suggested Sam should do.”

Dean choked on his cookie and had to swallow before he could clear his throat.

Cas did not realize any of that, but kept talking, “Where do I send it? The internet suggested I give it to my parents, but God has left with Amara. I have currently no way of contacting him.”

Dean, who had regained his composure, saw an opportunity and took it. “You give it to me,” he said, holding out his hands for the letter.

Cas looked down at his letter and then at Dean through narrowed eyes. “And you will send it to Santa Claus?” he made sure.

“Yes.” A little white lie would be totally worth it if he could get Cas exactly what he wished for for Christmas.

Cas handed over the letter and thanked Dean shortly before he left the room again. Dean waited for the door to close behind Cas and then waited an additional three and a half seconds before tearing the letter open.

“Son of a bitch!” The letter, of course, was written in Enochian.

***

“Santa can’t read Enochian,” Dean explained to Cas when he found him in the control room, chatting with Sam about their hunt. Both Cas and Sam looked up at that, twin frowns on their faces.

Dean held out the letter for Cas to take back, which Cas did, accompanied by his usual head tilt. “Is Santa American?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dean affirmed. “Yes, he is.”

Sam’s confused look turned into a disapproving frown. Dean just hoped he wouldn’t start spouting off information about the country of origin that first came up with the whole Santa schtick.

“But you said he brought presents to everyone. Not everyone can write in English,” Cas tried to logic him.

Dean, being the master bullshitter that he was, could easily make an excuse up on the spot. “Santa can read all Earth languages. Not angelic ones, sorry.—Also, I know for a fact that _you_ can write in English what with all the text messages you keep sending me.” Granted, most of them consisted of emoticons, but there were words here and there, too.

Cas appeared to be deep in thought, though. Finally, he mused out loud, “Santa Claus has never brought any gifts to the angels in Heaven. If he only ever brings presents to the inhabitants of Earth, maybe he is not interested in letters from angels at all.”

“Well, you are on Earth now,” Dean said. “I think that means you qualify. In any case—it can’t hurt to try. Right?”

That seemed to convince Cas, who sighed and then got up. “Excuse me,” he addressed Sam. “I have to rewrite a letter.”

Sam had the decency to wait till Cas was out of earshot to turn on Dean. “Cas isn’t a child, you know?” he said.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna get his wish list hand delivered,” Dean said, waggling his brows. “How cool is that?—You can get in on the action if you’re still looking for a present for him,” he then added magnanimously.

That effectively took the wind out of Sam’s sails, which made Dean suspect that Sam had been as stumped as Dean in regards to what to get the angel as a Christmas gift.

“I still think making a being that is literally millions of years old believe in Santa is dumb,” Sam said, but there was no real bite to it.

***

_Dear Santa,_

_I feel as if I should clarify in order not to deceive you that I am not human and only reside on Earth at the moment. I hope that will not disqualify me from having my wish for a Christmas present considered._

_First and foremost, I wish for you to protect my dear friends, Dean and Sam. They are my family and they tend to get hurt a lot. While I heal them as best I can, it would be much appreciated if they didn’t get hurt as often to begin with. As a magical being, maybe you could protect them from harm. I do not know how powerful your magic is, but I imagine it must be very powerful for you to get presents to everyone on Earth within one day._

_I am unsure if I am allowed to wish for two things, but if you still have time and magic left, I would also like to have a permanent home down in this bunker with the Winchester brothers (that’s Dean and Sam again, in case that was unclear). I feel quite comfortable here and find myself wishing that this place were my home just like it is Dean and Sam’s._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Castiel, Angel of the Lord_

“Okay, this is officially useless!” Dean said, tossing the letter down onto the table in the dungeon, where he and Sam had met to avoid Cas walking in on them. “Who even writes wish lists like that?” He tried to sound frustrated in order to cover up how that letter had made his heart clench.

“Seems very… Cas,” Sam said. Then he picked up the letter, skimming over it again. “Maybe we could at least try to use the letter as inspiration for a gift?”

“So what you’re saying is… try not to get hurt?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. “We already do that. Me at least. Not sure if _you_ set out to get your ass kicked by monsters twice a week and on Sundays.”

“Well, maybe not that part of the letter,” Sam conceded. “But we could… I dunno… make him feel more at home here, I guess?”

“This _is_ his ‘permanent home,’ what the hell is he even talking about?” Dean grouched. “Anyway, how would we even go about making him feel _more_ at home?”

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Tell him he belongs here, give him a hug… _something_.”

“I’m gonna hug the crap out of him, alright, for not realizing this is his permanent home. Right before I’ll kick his feathered ass. But I don’t think that qualifies as a Christmas present,” Dean said.

“Well, probably not the ass-kicking part,” Sam mumbled.

Just then an idea was forming in Dean’s head, but before he could share it with Sammy, Cas walked into the dungeon. Dean took a step forward in front of Sam in order to obscure Cas’ line of vision, but Sam was already subtly slipping the letter into his pocket.

“What are you doing down here?” Cas asked, looking from Dean to Sam.—Well, Dean had never really stood a chance to block Samsquatch with his own body, but Cas didn’t seem to have noticed the letter, so there was that. “I have been searching for you.”

“Oh, we’re just chillin’,” Dean said, nonchalant, which got him a narrow-eyed look from Cas and an eye roll from Sam.

When no one said anything else, Cas spoke up again, “I think I have a lead on the twelve days of Christmas monster.”

“That’s a mouthful. Gotta come up with a better name than that. Grinch for short?” Dean suggested.

Cas was still looking at him suspiciously when they left the dungeon together to go hunt themselves a Christmas monster. But Dean was feeling good about his idea and he couldn’t wait to share it with Sammy. If Cas thought something was going on—well, he wasn’t wrong. He’d reap the benefits come Christmas Day.


	2. Chapter 2

“Why would meeting Sam make people believe in angels?” Cas asked, a frown on his face as he scrutinized the wall poster he was currently holding in his hands.

It was Christmas Day and they were sitting in the library, opening presents. Dean hadn’t been able to help himself and had gotten Sam a girl’s shampoo as a prank gift before giving him his real present. He himself had already put on the Scooby-Doo socks Cas had given him and they felt warm and comfy.

Cas had just opened a gift Dean had given him, reading out the quote on the poster that said, ‘If you don’t believe in angels, you haven’t met my brother.’

“Told you he wouldn’t understand,” Sam noted, hiding a grin at Cas’ confused frown.

“Shuddup, Sammy,” Dean said without any heat to it and then turned back to Cas to explain, “No, the brother is _you_. It’s supposed to be funny because you really _are_ an angel and normally when humans say that… You know what? It isn’t funny if I have to explain it.”

Luckily, Sam took over for him, “It’s just something for you to hang up in your room to make it more… _your_ room.”

When Cas just squinted at them, Dean added, “It goes along with Sam’s present for you.” He gestured towards the last present under the tree and Cas picked it up curiously.

When he opened it and looked at the door sign that said ‘Cas,’ he stated, “That’s the shortened version of my name.”

“It’s a name plate for your door,” Dean explained.

“For my door?” Cas repeated, and Dean couldn’t quite tell whether he even understood what Dean was talking about. Maybe he was thinking about the gate to Heaven for all he knew.

Sam obviously had the same thought because he clarified, “You hang it on the door to your room.”

“But why do I need a sign with my name on the door?” Cas asked in the same tone of voice he had asked about paper bags and toilet paper in the early days. “You know my name and you know that it is my room.”

“Do _you_?” Dean couldn’t help asking.

When the angel just tilted his head, clearly not understanding what he was getting at, Dean added, “You’ve stayed in that room every time you’re here. That makes it your room. Yet, somehow, it’s still empty.”

“That is not true,” Cas objected. “There is a bed in it as well as a chair and…”

“Not what we’re talking about,” Sam interrupted him. “That’s always been in there. What we mean is you can leave little things here if you want to.”

“Little things?” Cas repeated slowly. Then he seemed to have an idea and he asked, “Like my angel blade?”

“Sure,” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders. “Like anything, really.”

“Like the funny quote about brothers and angels?” Cas nodded as if he finally understood what Dean had been trying to tell him before.

He very clearly still hadn’t gotten what the joke was about, but at least he seemed to get what they were trying to tell him about his room, so Dean beamed at him and said, “Exactly.”

“Because it is my room,” Cas said yet again, but this time as if in wonder. As if he just realized what that truly meant. About frigging time! “My… home.”

But the next moment, Cas’ mood shifted. His expression closed off and he suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “That is a very nice thought, thank you for the gift,” he said formally, almost mechanically. It was obviously just a courtesy, no thank you that came from the heart.

“You don’t like it?” Dean asked, confused as to what could have prompted the sudden change in mood.

“I like it very much,” Cas replied, not looking either of them in the eye, his tone of voice devoid of emotion.

“It’s okay not to like every present you get,” Sam tried to reassure him, but Dean could tell that he was disappointed with Cas’ reaction as well.

“It is not that I don’t like it.—I only just realized that it is not really you who is giving that gift to me, but magical influences,” Cas said evasively and of course, Dean would have had no clue what he was talking about had he not read his letter to Santa. As it was, Dean asked himself why lies, no matter how well-intended, always came back to bite him in the ass.

Sam next to him, of course, just had to rub it in. “I told you lying to him about Santa was a bad idea.—Cas, there is no Santa Claus. It’s just what you tell little children to… I dunno—make Christmas more magical or something.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at him. “I am not a small child,” he stated.

“That’s what I said, but you know Dean…”

“Hey!” Dean butted in, affronted. It had sounded like a good idea at the time… How should he have known that Cas was going to feel as if the presents were not coming from a genuine place?

“Anyway, magic didn’t make us get you those presents,” Sam continued. “We have just felt that you belong here for a very long time and we’d like you to feel that way, too. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other in silence as a few seconds ticked by.

“This would be the part where you had planned to ‘hug the crap out of him,’” Sam prompted helpfully, a smile playing around his lips.

“Bite me, Sammy,” Dean said, but then Sam was hugging Cas, mumbling “Merry Christmas” into his shoulder and once he let go of the angel again, there was really nothing else Dean could do but pull Cas into his arms, too.

Screw Heaven—this, right here, was where their angel belonged. And Dean was planning on never letting Cas forget that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any kind of feedback is highly appreciated. <3


End file.
